[At about the same time that the 1911 Mercer Type 35R Raceabout that formerly belonged to Henry Austin Clark Jr. was getting prepped to cross the block at RM’s recent Monterey auction – where it sold for $2.53 million – we were speaking with author Geoff Gehman about his recently released book, The Kingdom of the Kid: Growing Up in the Long-Lost Hamptons, which describes Long Island in the 1960s and 1970s and – of particular interest to us – includes a chapter on collector Henry Austin Clark Jr., with reminiscences from former Hemmings editor Dave Brownell. Geoff gave us permission to reprint the Austie chapter here. For more on the book, visit SUNYPress.edu.]

One of the landmarks on the Montauk Highway in Southampton was a big blue building that imitated an airplane hangar with three humps. Behind that bulky steel façade was every conceivable classic car: primitive, elegant, sporty, crazy, exotic, erotic, extinct. Inside that cavernous garage, my heart burned rubber and my imagination popped a wheelie.

One of my favorite vintage vehicles was the 1907 Thomas Flyer that won a 1908 around-the-world race from Times Square to Paris. I couldn’t believe that such a basic automobile—basically, an open-air wagon with a steering wheel and a motor–traveled nearly 22,000 miles over 169 days. Another top choice was a Pierce Silver Arrow made for the 1933-1934 Century of Progress International Exposition in Chicago. I was less impressed by the pedigree than by the sleek, smart body. The recessed door handles, the tapered back, the front fenders that stored spare wheels—here was my first piece of moving sculpture.

The adventure continued around the grounds. For no trip to the Long Island Automotive Museum was complete without cruising a backyard dirt road in an antique hook-and-ladder fire engine that spewed smoke and lurched like a cranky freight train. Cranking the ear-slapping, window-rattling siren made me feel like the captain of the resident Sandy Hollow Fire Company.

Photo courtesy Walt Gosden.

The museum was, in short, a candy store. Somehow it makes sense that it was owned and operated by an heir to the Jack Frost sugar empire, a man with a sweet tooth for classic cars. Raised in Flushing, Queens, Henry Austin “Austie” Clark Jr. was a Harvard freshman when he acquired his first early auto, a Ford Model T made in 1915, two years before he was born. After leaving the Navy, where he served as a radar technician in World War II, he began collecting vintage vehicles in earnest. By 1948, he owned 35, some of which he exhibited in his new Southampton museum in a three-bay Quonset hut.

Clark was a detective with flair. He found that 1933 Pierce Silver Arrow, for example, in a junkyard in Cicero, Illinois. He bought it because it was stylish, because it was one of only six made that year, and because he could easily polish its provenance. The holes in the trunk, he loved to say, were made by bullets fired by gangsters employed by Al Capone, the car’s original owner and Public Enemy No. 1.

Clark doubled as a canny archaeologist and an uncanny psychologist. “My father amassed his collection in large part because widows wanted these hulks hauled out of their garages,” says his son, Henry Austin “Hal” Clark III. “He had all sorts of stuff, from the ridiculous to the sublime. He had 17 cars that no one knew existed.”

In his heyday, Clark owned some 250 autos and countless other motorized devices (i.e., a gas-powered pogo stick). What separated him from other collectors was his role as a one-stop shop. His museum hosted “The Iron Range,” a sporadic flea market of rare parts, many made of brass from the 1890s to World War I, a period dubbed “The Brass Era.” His house in Glen Cove, Long Island, was a museum of rare books and catalogs, photographs and postcards, paintings and trophies. Visitors could read car magazines owned by Kaiser Wilhelm in a pair of bucket seats from a Locomobile, made by the maker of an early internal combustion engine. Today, they can see most of Clark’s archives at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan, a first-rate repository of Americana created by the visionary behind Clark’s first classic car.

Clark filtered his encyclopedic knowledge into The Standard Catalog of American Cars: 1802-1945, a bible for collectors and historians. He was the chief researcher for writer and good friend Beverly Rae Kimes, an acclaimed auto authority who shared his fondness for driving the corkscrew turns between fact, fiction and fable. He strained his love of interviewing, editorializing and yarning into “Young Nuts and Old Bolts,” a 1972-1978 column in Old Cars magazine (now Old Cars Weekly). A preservationist to his chassis, he even bought the rights to a dead company, Simplex, which customized luxury autos for the Rockefellers.

Clark’s many lives were shared by Dave Brownell, founding editor of Old Cars, former editor of Hemmings Motor News, and boon companion. Brownell edited Clark’s columns, traded information with Clark on auctions and appraisals, raced Clark’s cars. He even bought one of Clark’s cars, a 1924 Bentley 3 Litre. In a pair of interviews from his Vermont home, he recalls Austie as a 120-mph rogue.

***

I met Austie in 1967 in Manhattan at an auction of vintage auto memorabilia. All he did was basically outbid me on every piece. Afterward I said to him: “You’re Henry Austin Clark.” “The one and the same.” “I was chasing a number of the things you bought.” “Oh, are you an automotive art collector?” “A budding collector.” “Oh, you must come back to the house, and I’ll show you some things you probably haven’t seen.”

So I went out to Glen Cove and spent a delightful afternoon with him. I bought a couple of pieces at very, very reasonable prices. I was charmed by an early French print of a guy behind the wheel of a car, wearing a checkered hat, with a lady. They’re flying along in the breeze and she has a big Gibson Girl hat on, with a bow strung around her chin. I thought it was a very, very nice embodiment of what early motoring was about. There was also a poster of a Zust [made in 1905-1917], one of the participants in that New York to Paris race in 1908. It was done by a famous German Expressionist artist. A very arresting piece.

I remember there was this great painting in his library: J.C. Leyendecker’s “Mercedes at Madison Square.” A classic piece: It was on the cover of the 1905 Collier’s automobile supplement. I vowed to myself: I’m gonna have that. I did eventually get it. I used to look at it every night. I’d study Leyendecker’s brush work, just the way he’d do a brass lamp with one twist of color.

That’s how our friendship began. It was worth losing out to him.

Another time, we were going into the city to an auction of auto memorabilia from the estate of [auto journalist] Ken Purdy. Ken was a guy who interested a lot of people in old cars and car collecting with his enthusiasm. He had a very romantic way of talking; one of his books was called Kings of the Road. Austie’s wife Waleta–“Wally”–could be tough; he nicknamed her “The War Department.” Before we went to the auction she told Austie: “You’ve got enough stuff here; don’t you dare bring anything home.” And he said: “Yes, dear”–which was always his response to her.

Austie was an inveterate collector. So, of course, we loaded that car with so much stuff, it was dragging. After we stopped at every topless place on Queens Boulevard—he was a collector of pulchritude, too–we came back to Glen Cove at midnight and hid stuff in the cellar, so Wally wouldn’t see it right away.

The next morning, Wally asks Austie: “What did you buy at auction?” “Nothing,” he says. And she says: “Well, you must have bought something, because there’s something wrong with the rear springs.”

Austie used to hold these gatherings in the backyard of his house in Glen Cove. It was a wonderful microcosm of terrific automobiles and terrific people. I remember one time they had to go out and rescue Charles Addams [cartoonist, vintage car collector and Clark friend] because his Bugatti had crapped out on the Long Island Expressway.

So they brought it back to Glen Cove and somebody started fiddling with it. And “Gggggaaaa!” Somebody said, “Wait a minute,” and stuck his hand in the carburetor and pulled out an honest-to-God butterfly. It was blocking the air intake. He started it again and this time it turned over: “Gggggaaaa—vrrroom!” And I said to myself: “Only a Bugatti could be stopped by a butterfly.”

***

The Thomas Flyer–that was the crown jewel in Austie’s collection, in a way. Yet he could never get George Schuster to actually verify that was the car that he drove when he won the around-the-world race in 1908. That was one of the great collecting frustrations of Austie’s life.

Photo by Darin Schnabel, courtesy RM Auctions.

I’d say my favorite vehicle of his was his [1911] Mercer [Type 35] Raceabout. It was designed by Finley [Robertson] Porter, a Long Islander who said he wanted to make great cars for the public. It’s probably one of the great genius designs of the early 20th century. The steering is pinpoint accurate. The balance of those cars, the performance—they were the Corvettes of their time. It’s one of my dream cars.

Austie was always a grand host. One year he hosted the Pioneer Automobile Touring Club for Brass Era cars. I didn’t have a Brass Era car, so he lent me his Mercer for five days. We were doing demo laps at the [Bridgehampton] Race Circuit and I was trying to be very careful and take care of Austie’s car, and this guy [Bill Campbell] in a [1910] Stevens Duryea–a great lumbering car–chops me on the corner. Well, that got my dander up and I went by that Stevens Duryea like it was tied to a post. And I looked at the sweep hand on the speedometer and it was 94 mph–the highest speed in any segment.

Well, I told Austie I was a bad boy. And Austie looked at the speedometer and he smiled and he said: “You weren’t a bad boy. You were a good boy.” Anybody else would have torn their hair out. His attitude was: Did you enjoy the car? And, boy, did I ever!

He loved his Model T fire chief’s car. He loved fire engines–probably as much as cars. He had this bright idea he wanted his own fire department, so he started the Sandy Hollow Fire Company. He appointed his friends as captains with badges. I was disappointed that I never became an honorary captain. I’d pester him, but he never gave one to me. I know plenty of people who dodged speeding tickets because they had that badge. The badges–and Austie’s good relations with the local authorities–saved their bacon.

One time, Austie wrote the outfit that made police and fire department badges and asked for maybe 40 captain’s badges. I guess somebody at the company called up and said: “Excuse me, the only time we’ve gotten a request like this was from New York City.” And Austie said: “Don’t worry about it–my credit’s good.”

***

Austie was always holding these sales of old parts, rusty parts, bits for cars at the museum. They were called the Iron Range or Early Iron and they went back to the ’50s. It was never a formal announcement; you just sort of found out through the old-car telegraph. There were a lot of old, decrepit chassis—a bunch of skeletons of early cars–hanging around the back of the museum. If they weren’t so old, it would simply be a junkyard.

The last Iron Range I went to, Austie had a radiator shield from an SS Jaguar just sitting in the corner. “Austie,” I said, “how much is the SS Jaguar?” “That’s not a Jaguar, that’s a ’32 Chrysler.” “No,” I said, “that’s an SS Jaguar.” “Don’t argue with Uncle Austie.” “Alright, how much is the ’32 Chrysler?”

So I bought it–and sold it to a Jag guy.

At some point, he’d halt all the business at the Iron Range and announce it was time for lunch. We’d pile on the old Autocar bus and ride to Herb McCarthy’s [a favorite Clark restaurant-watering hole in Southampton]. Going down was okay; coming back was a little bit interesting because we had done a bit of drinking. Let me tell you, that thing wasn’t easy to drive when you were dead sober.

If you were smart, you waited Austie out on the Iron Range. People in the know knew that after a few drinks at McCarthy’s, by the time he got back to the Iron Range, he was a lot easier to deal with on the price.

***

It’s a privilege to know some people, and that’s the way I felt about Austie. I mean, the depth of his knowledge was awe inspiring. He had a steel-trap mind when it came to finding stuff and minutiae. And the resources he had in that library were just mind boggling. Well, he couldn’t have had a Standard Catalog without it; that book did more for the history of the American auto than anything else. And he was never one of these guys to throw his weight around. If you made a mistake, he wouldn’t jump all over you. He knew better than most people, and he was content to know.

There was no pretense about him. Here he is, the son of wealth, living in the private enclave of Glen Cove, has a summer home in Southampton–he could have been a hideous snob. Instead, he was one of the great guys. Believe me, there are an awful lot of cars that wouldn’t be on the road if it wasn’t for his parts. He just wanted to see those cars get back on the road. And he was so generous. He had all this literature, all this ephemera, and he donated the whole shooting match to the Henry Ford Museum. In his own quiet way, he had a real mission for the preservation of automotive history. That was his work, that was his job. I think he always enjoyed what he was doing. He enjoyed it so much, he wanted everybody else to enjoy it too. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

I learned so much from him. One time he told me: “You know and I know these early cars don’t start a damn. So lesson number one, when you’re guiding one of these cars, is try to keep it rolling. Don’t stop unless you absolutely have to.” Because it’s much more difficult to go through the gears than it is to keep the car rolling.

Austie proved his point in a [1906] Pungs-Finch [Limited, the first automobile with a hemi-powered engine]. It was a very powerful early car; I think he had the only surviving one. He was going into Southampton to fill it up with gas. And my wife was invited to ride along with him. So off he went, and they got to the first traffic light and he hit the brake pedal and there was nothing there. So he kind of held the steering wheel and stood up and surveyed the situation and said: “Out of the way–I have no brakes!” And hoped that people could hear him.

The other thing he taught me is you shouldn’t take yourself too seriously. Life should have some fun to it. When Austie died, my ex-wife had a very trenchant observation. “You know,” she said, “his entire life was one long fraternity party.” That about sums him up. If you liked cars and you liked an occasional drink and you liked to have a good time, you were his guy.

I remember one time we were on the Glidden Tour [for Brass Era cars], staying at the Lake Placid Hotel; I remember I was using Austie’s Mercer. And Wally told Austie: “Our neighbor [in Glen Cove] just lost the presidency of the Chase Manhattan Bank.” And Austie says: “It serves the son of a bitch right–he could never make a decent martini.”

I just about fell on the floor. That’s just about pure W.C. Fields; that’s such pure Austin Clark.

***

Austie Clark’s Long Island Automotive Museum had an inglorious end. In 1980 he closed the three-bay Quonset hut to the public after decades of decreasing revenues. He blamed his fall from grace on the Town of Southampton’s refusal to let him advertise on billboards around town. He apparently didn’t benefit enough from the extra traffic on the Montauk Highway after the 1972 opening of Exit 72 of the Long Island Expressway, which enabled motorists to bypass Riverhead and race faster to the East End.

In 1980, Clark auctioned many of his vintage vehicles in front of his museum. Being a natural ringleader, he naturally served as his own auctioneer. Dave Brownell, a fellow collector, appraiser and antique-auto historian, watched the sale with Charles Addams and another Clark crony. “We started making side bets about which cars would make the most money,” says Brownell. “And Charlie Addams was really good. He won two-thirds of the bets. He cleaned our clocks.”

Clark died in 1991, three years after Charlie Addams expired in one of his cars. By then, the museum was a wreck; today, it’s a dead mausoleum. The Quonset hut has a rusty façade, broken windows and skateboard graffiti. The gap-toothed sign reads “LONG ISLA MO IV M.” The parking lot is a grove of rogue birch trees. It seems entirely fitting that nearby is a company that sells funeral monuments.

geomechssays:

August 19, 2014 7:25 pm

When I was a 2nd Grader back in ’61 my dad brought home a copy of ‘Treasury of the Automobile’ by Ralph Stein. Already smitten by old cars (back as early as I can remember) I devoured that book. Many times a year I opened it and spent many happy hours looking at the pictures and reading the captions–later reading the entire book from cover to cover. I still have that book and it is one of my most treasured automotive books.

There were some references to the LONG ISLAND AUTO MUSEUM, and that museum became a place I wanted to visit. If I ever made it out to NYC, the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building would have to wait; I would see the Auto museum first. Sadly the museum closed before I was able to cross it off my list of places to see. Of course I didn’t realize it fully until a few years ago when I decided to research the museum and came across this same video.

It broke my heart. Since then, I’ve thought about those modest to massive collections and wondered what was going to happen to them. Up in Wetaskawin, AB is the Reynolds Museum which is under the watchful eye of the Alberta government so it’s likely to stick around, although Stan Reynolds’ original collection (dwindling down to mostly dilapitated cars and parts) has been parceled out and mostly sold off. But I think of other places, like the Montana Auto Museum in Deerlodge, MT and wonder what’s going to happen to them?

For that matter, I wonder what’s going to happen to my own collection? It’s only (8) with three running but I often wonder? My son-in-law has laid claim to a couple of them but that leaves 6 more.

Michael Hammsays:

August 25, 2014 2:03 pm

Good point on the Reynolds. We had several US offers to take our picture cars, The Thomas Flyer and German Protos, which we built for film The Greatest Auto Race on Earth. When we investigated we learned that most US museums are able to sell off their assets. The Reynolds can not do that; so, they got our cars and about 24 lineal feet of original research … and thousands of original photos. Bless Stan and the Reynolds!

Gene Hermansays:

August 20, 2014 6:44 am

Robert Gsays:

August 20, 2014 9:43 am

Back in 1957 my dad took me to the Long Island Automotive Museum. He had just purchased a two door 57 Ford Fairlane 500 hardtop and wanted to break it in so it was a slow trip from Forest Hills to the Hamptons It was an early spring day and for lunch we stopped, had some littleneck clams on the half shell for an appetizer and then for me a big plate of fried clams. Will never forget how much fun the entire day was both the museum, lunch and time with my dad. .

Joe Zawatskisays:

August 20, 2014 10:02 am

What a great story. David, you captured him well. Austie was my friend and my mentor. I can honestly say, I would not be who I am today had it not been for him. I too have a thousand memories and they are all great. David, I think I too visited those establishments whenever I visited Glen Cove and the drives home late in the evening were always an adventure. He was a most generous man. The Pungs Finch was donated to the San Antonio Museum of Transportation where it was our signature car. As a musician in Ohio says…”All you have are the memories, you have to make the good ones last.” I have many great lasting memories.

Walt Gosdensays:

August 20, 2014 10:14 am

Great story, but the restuarant that we would go to for lunch when there was an Iron Range Day was John Duck’s. We did go to Herb Mc Carthy’s on Bowden Sq. but never as a group. By the way the house across the street from Herb McCarthy’s was the last home of F.R. Porter, the engineer who designed the engine for the type 35 Mercer, and later built the FRP and Porter cars. I was the librarian at Austin’s (he never ever refered to himself as Austie) collection for about 2 years in the mid 1970s on a full time basis and then went over to help sort and do research forand with him on my vacations and weekends when I wasn’t teaching until his death. He was a first class car guy all the way.

Roberto Rodriguezsays:

August 22, 2014 10:02 am

Walt… Do you remember if Austin had collected any materials from F.R. Porter for his library? We have the sole F.R.P. (ex Bowdish, Harrah, Mallory, Collier) at the Seal Cove, and I’m always on the lookout for more info on this wonderful automobile. A trip to the Ford and the HAC archives is a must.
Gosh, I wonder if hidden in a barn, close to the old Porter home, there might be hidden the elusive Porter car…?

Geoff Gehmansays:

August 22, 2014 2:07 pm

Dear Walt: Glad you enjoyed the chapter on Mr. Clark and thanks for filling us all in about F.R. Porter’s last/local home, your valuable role as Austin/Austie’s librarian, and John Duck’s vs. Herb McCarthy’s. Other folks told me that Duck’s was the preferred group venue, but Dave suggested otherwise, and Dave knows much, much better than I do.
I think Mr. Clark would make a first-class character for a biography. What do you think?
All best, Geoff G

Lee Murphysays:

August 20, 2014 10:15 am

As a young man, I knew Austie and his friends, who helped
me restore my first ‘old ‘ car…a 1930 Model A (hey, I was
only 26). Those were heady days for antique auto acquisitions
on Long Island and elsewhere, with barn finds much more
common than they are today. Clark was a gentleman who
never let his wealth overwhelm him. He was kind to all and
will always be remembered warmly by those he touched.

Roberto Rodriguezsays:

August 20, 2014 11:21 am

The remains of the old museum may now be a “mausoleum” but Austie’s cars live on in museums and private collections.

We are fortunate in having two of Henry Austin Clar Jr.’s former cars at the Seal Cove Auto Museum… A 1904 Knox and a 1912 Thomas Flyer.

The1904 Knox that was originally built for Elisha Cutler, president of the Knox Automobile Company. In 2010, the Seal Cove auto Museum verified the automobile’s provenance when one of the Museum’s volunteers found its registration hidden under thes seat… Waleta (Wally) H. Clark, Henry Austin Clark’s wife. The registration is now kept in the car’s log book. The Clark’s son, ‘Hal’, further verified the family’s ownership when he visited the Museum in 2010. The Knox was registered in his mother’s name so that it could be issued a vanity license plate. The Knox is featured on various post cards and prints that were sold at the LIAM, and can be seen at the end of “50 Years of Automotive Progress”: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hxd8udGXIeI&feature=player_embedded
This 1957 film “50 Years of Automotive Progress” was produced by Scudder Boyd. It features the antique cars of the Long Island Automotive Museum. Henry Austin Clark, Jr. can be seen driving his cars throughout the film.

The 1912 Thomas Flyer was found in a barn on Long Island by Austin Clark, the Thomas then went to Lester Cutting, and then to Ken Rohl, a judge in Long Island who then sold it to Dr. Sam Scher….It found its way to the Seal Cove Auto Museum when the Museum’s founder, Richard C. Paine Jr., purchased a number of automobiles from the Dr. Samuel L. Scher collection in 1965. Henry Austin Clark also produced a postcard featuring the Thomas Flyer.

Sal Grencisays:

August 21, 2014 9:59 pm

I never visited the museum while it was open. Les Cutting invited me to several “Iron Range” where Austie would open the barns and sell stuff for a few hours and then go to lunch at John Ducks in Southampton. Les was there the day it opened and the day it closed. Les was a well known pre war collector and a founder of the Long Island Motor Touring Club in 1957, (I have been pres 5 times) I also knew Ken Rohl, a friend of my day, went to school with my uncle. Ken gained national attention when Joseph Hazelwood of Huntington and Exxon Valdez fame came home went before Ken on an Alaska warrant. Ken was a big boater and bayman on the Great South Bay.

February 17, 2015 11:50 am

Phil Collinssays:

August 20, 2014 11:42 am

Paul Tabonesays:

August 20, 2014 12:26 pm

I recall a visit to the museum when I was a kid. Probably went because it was a car museum, but my dad was more a Dodge. Plymouth, Chrysler guy and at that time I was too. I wish I had gone before it closed when I was very aware of Jags, MG’s, Fiats, and things not Mopar.

bmwr60/5says:

August 20, 2014 12:32 pm

This was a childhood “must do” visit from then rural Western LI. Fortunately my father also enjoyed old cars, as he also steadfastly refused to buy new. He saw it as a frivolous waste. But he, my older brother would go to Mr. Austin’s yearly and took our time at each car to savor the different approaches that went into the cars. They were not at all copy-cat designs.

In retrospect, it is a shame that someone did not have the foresight to keep this going as the explosive building of upscale vacation homes in and around the old wealth of the Hamptons brought new owners and visitors who are not shy about displaying their very rare and expensive classic and new bespoke rides. Attaching a vineyard and a fancy facade would have made a wonderful bauble for even that portion of Southampton which boasts very upscale dealerships for the world’s finest marques. Just bad timing, but I am happy to still be able to vacation east of there in a rather more humble, but sweet abode. I still love cars and will get my fix next week at Lime Rock Park’s Vintage Gathering and race weekend. If you have not been, it is a magical event, just as visiting Mr. Austin’s Museum decades ago. I have Mr. Austin to thank, in part, for my love of cars.

Andrew Frankssays:

August 20, 2014 12:54 pm

Tony Kayesays:

August 20, 2014 12:55 pm

What a great guy. He reminds me a lot of the British old car and airplane enthusiast, Hamish Moffatt, particularly the incident in which Austin stood in his car shouting “I have no brakes” as he crossed the red lights.

To illustrate the similarity, once, when short of time and parking spaces, Hamish left his old Saab on a double yellow line. On his return, a traffic warden was occupied looking for the missing tax disc and taking a good look round the car, booking forms in hand. He managed to distract her by saying that he was really sorry the car had broken down, but if she would kindly help push the car round the corner, it would be out of the way so he could await the breakdown vehicle, which she obligingly did. After she was out of sight, he got in it and drove away.

John C. Kovalosays:

August 20, 2014 1:02 pm

Yet another interesting and significant fellow I didn’t know about until today, and sounds like I should have known about 40 years ago. That “Hemmings Contributor” is quite a writer! – but was it penned by Gehman or Brownell?

I’ve got Georgano’s Brit-published “Encyclopaedia” of Motor Cars, which is interesting enough in itself; sounds like I need to pick up Austie’s Standard Catalogue sometime and compare notes.

Thanks again for a great little read; a pity that someone doesn’t resurrect the LIAM as a permanent memorial to the man.

Geoff Gehmansays:

August 22, 2014 12:01 am

Dear John: Very glad you enjoyed the chapter on Mr. Clark, and thanks for saying so. I wrote the introduction and created an oral history of Austie from two long phone interviews with Dave Brownell, who knew him from all the important angles.
You’ll have a gas with the “Standard Catalog.” And, yes, it would be great if the museum were resurrected as a Clark memorial. He was one special guy.
Cheers, Geoff G

polarasays:

August 20, 2014 1:06 pm

zkrazeesays:

August 20, 2014 1:53 pm

As a young snot-nosed kid growing up on Long Island in the late ’50s, I pestered my old man into taking me to HAC’s museum a few times. I still remember the Thomas Flyer, the Mercer and the Pierce Arrow. And also seeing Mr. Clark in person. I was way to shy to talk to him, and in later years I kind of thought of him as a David E.Davis Jr.doppleganger!

Always wondered what happened to him and the museum.
Now that I’ve been put wise by the wonderful piece and pics
I know. Thanks so much for helping me relive another precious Long Island memory!

Jim Gibbonssays:

August 20, 2014 3:52 pm

warren aplinsays:

August 20, 2014 4:12 pm

Great story. In the 70’s I used to buy wrecked cars at J&V Auto Salvage (it is still there and busy as ever) in South Hampton. I was fortunate enough to have stopped by a few times to visit the museum when I was on my way to the junk yard to look for salvageable cars.. I only wish I could have seen it in its hey-day. I was on a quest to find the place a few months back when visiting friends in Quogue. I had not seen all the articles and had really forgotten where it was. I went hunting with a friend and we did find it, what a shame to see it the way it is today. Since finding it, I have been researching the place and found several articles. This one is a great one. The place deserves to be restored and brought back to life. If I had the means I would love to give it a go. How about somebody putting together a team to get that place going again? As someone mentioned a few replies back the timing is right for an updated version using the old restored buildings. Once it is torn down it will be too late as has happened with so many other monuments i.e. The Bridge, The Garden City Hotel! Save The Museum!

Arthur Dentsays:

August 20, 2014 4:38 pm

The LI Automotive Museum was a place that I had wanted to visit ever since I first heard about it. Back in the ’70s, when visiting a friend in Long Island, I bought a thick stack of postcards of magnificent 20s and 30s cars that were published by Mr. Clark.

It’s good to know that this world has been gifted with people like him.

owenparkersays:

August 21, 2014 12:28 am

Roberto Rodriguezsays:

August 21, 2014 11:28 am

We have hundreds of LIM postcards for sale through the Seal Cove Auto Museum gift shop. So many postcards that we sell them 4 for $1.00 Send an email to store@sealcoveautomuseum.org and we can send you a list of what we have.

Peter Zobiansays:

August 20, 2014 4:51 pm

I lived in Roslyn, Long island until I graduated from High School in 1956, then my parents bought a home on Raynam Road in Glen Cove very close to Henry Austin Clark’s home. I was nuts about old cars and would see him often. He was a real gentleman and would talk cars with me as if I was an equal. I’ve been a car collector for over 50 years and this article brought back many fond memories.

Steve in PVsays:

August 20, 2014 5:59 pm

I visited the LIAM with my family (wife, 7 year old son and 4 year old daughter just one week before it closed. As I recall, we were the one visitors there at that time. Was sad to see a truly great museum close.

Rick Sihlersays:

August 20, 2014 7:13 pm

Wonderful journalism, well worth staying up past One AM here outside of Stuttgart. Henry Austin Clark was a real original, passionate with personality.
So, let’s get out and support the museums! I certainly will when I’m stateside.
Around here, there’s not just the Mercedes-Benz and Porsche museums but quite a number of mid-sized ones.

Jimsays:

August 20, 2014 8:42 pm

As an Old Rhinebeck Aerodrome “rat” in the mid 1960s, I was awed when Austie showed up in his Stutz Bearcat. About eight or nine years later a group of six of us trekked to his museum. While wandering about, we stood transfixed at the Simplex Touring Car. Austie walked around the corner and announced that we should enjoy a ride in it, so we hung on while he put the Simplex through its paces. Marvelous! Following our high-speed tour, he related “the rest of the story” of the Stutz trip. It seems he decided to return as one would have in the years before WW I, down the Albany Post Road, today US Route 9, ending in NYC as Broadway. When he reached Manhattan he ran out of gas. He also did not have one cent on him. In those days before cell phones, he had to borrow a dime to make a collect call to the museum and have one of his mechanics deliver five gallons of gasoline to him so that he could complete his drive!

August 20, 2014 8:46 pm

Paul T Cheshiresays:

August 21, 2014 11:26 am

Going there in 1958 was the start of my life long love affair with antique cars and trucks. I recall the ride in his Double Decker bus like it was yesterday. When cleaning out my parents home in Oyster Bay, I found the Highway Pioneers car set my mom bought me on our last trip to LIAM. The reopening of the building was discussed at one point by the Hamptons Town Board and I understand the Clarke Family declined.
I worked for the Pratt Famly at their Glen Cove properties and got to meet Mr. Clarke once, truely wonderful man to talk to. P.T. Cheshire

Rande Bellsays:

August 21, 2014 10:06 pm

I met Mr Clark just once, at a local chapter Society of Automotive Historians meeting at Walt Gosden’s home on Long Island in the mid 1980’s, with the added treat that Beverly Rae Kimes was there, as well. I recognized Mr Clark from Road&Track photos, but didn’t ID Ms Kimes until she was introduced to me. As a younger auto scribe, only then did I realize how much I had to learn compared to those two stars. As well as they both wrote, they were so much fun to listen to that afternoon.

August 24, 2014 6:53 pm

gaylesays:

August 24, 2014 8:05 pm

The Long Island Auto Museum was the first actual old car museum I’d ever visited. My father stopped there with the family inn summer of ’63 or ’64 and I promptly fell in love with that Mercer Raceabout; a dream car ever since. I still have the color photos of some of his cars that resided on my bedroom wall in Manhasset, L.I. through college. A 1911 Maxwell-just like Jack Benny’s!

candlousays:

September 8, 2014 5:00 pm

I remember seeing the Around the World Thomas Flyer in a small roadside museum in Connecticut, It must have been around 1960. Was that the sme ont that was in the LI museum
or was it a fake?. I think the CT Flyer went on to Harras in Las Vegas.

paul hee jrsays:

October 6, 2014 11:48 am

growing up in Glen Cove on landind rd. My father was good friends with Austin Clark and all martini drinkin/ pals. he also was into sports cars and all things that were old I remember going to some of those parties and going to the museum many times and getting rides in some of those old cars those are memories that will last a lifetime.my father passed away two years ago and one of his last projects was restoring an MG model J engine and chasis when he could not find parts for the engine he had them made just like in the old days he said to methat’s how they did it back then

Bert Harrissays:

November 28, 2014 5:49 pm

My Father, Mal Harris, was a friend of Dr Clark’s. I visited John Ducks several times with my Father and was disappointed when it closed. My Father would haul cars for Mt Clark and often went on Glidden tours with him. He spoke fondly of him like all these other people.
We always had antique cars in our garage too. Even today I am a collector. I was actually at the very first Hershey meet in the early 50’S

Steve Watermansays:

February 16, 2015 7:28 pm

Thank you for the enlightening article. While I don’t ever remember visiting the museum, I was told that some of my grandfather’s photographs were on display and perhaps in Mr. Clarks collection. I’m told that my grandfather followed the race circuit on Long Island as well as travelling to Savannah Georgia, and the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. My dad told me that my grandfather knew Louis Chevrolet, Bennie Firestone and others. If anyone knows of photos taken by E.A. Waterman I would love to make contact with you since I never had the opportunity to collect any of his work. My e-mail is stevewaterman01@gmail.com.

Steve Watermansays:

February 17, 2015 4:06 pm

Richard Krausesays:

May 20, 2015 10:43 am

What can I say but WOW…I also had some contact with Mr Clark. As a young man with the Town of Oyster Bay, and working in the Engineering dept. I worked closely with Mr Harold Kraft, a Deputy Town Engineer, AND a friend of Austie….he also had a antique car collection! Mr Clark was everything said here in this story, and more! His visits to Mr Kraft were always an adventure, to be sure , In Oyster bay Town hall! The local water hole in Oyster bay was Joe Dees, and when Mr Clark was there ,everyone had a great time! Now Mr Krafts wife was a the curator for Sagamore hill back then ( the late 1950,s 1960,s ) I was in with a wonderful crowd, and was a bit to young, to know it! Mr Kraft had a 1902 Oldmoblie, I believe a rolled curved front, with a tiller bar……Gosh I loved that car! He ran it in every parade in Oyster bay and on the North shore! To this day…I knew I was a very lucky guy to be in their company……Gentlemen all, and I do agree, not a snob in the group, all nice guys for sure! My Dad used to take us to Herb Mc Carthys in South Hampton, I recall the John Duck Inn , and all the wonderful places , literally all over long island! What a great place to grow up……And people such as MR CLARK……And the KRAFT Family, etc…Made it so!

George Tomczyksays:

June 5, 2015 11:07 am

In 1968 when I got out of the army, I drove my mother and brother out to eastern Long Island to visit this museum. The
highlight of this trip was being invited together with another
family who also just happened to be visiting at the same time
on a Sunday to be taken for a ride around the roads that surrounded the museum in a single cylinder, hand cranked,
wicker bodied, rear entrance public bus from the earliest days
of motoring. I remember that day fondly & will always treasure
it.

Roberto Rodriguezsays:

June 5, 2015 12:32 pm

Great article with lots of interest and comments… How about some more articles about the pioneer collectors and great car museums of the past? James Melton, Joe Murchio, George Waterman, Bill Harrah, Frederick C. Crawford, Albert Garganigo, Cameron Peck, Dr. Samuel Scher… and many others, each a wonderful story.

Greg Moshosays:

June 5, 2015 10:43 pm

Wonderful article – thank you! I was born in 1967 – and my family went out to Sag Harbor and Eastern Long Island every summer for many many years – all throughout the seventies.
Always a highlight for me was a visit to the Long Island Automotive Museum. I can remember stopping there many times and still have pictures of me, as a young child, sitting in the cars! I do not remember ever meeting Austin Clark as a young child – but, I am sure I must have.
Even now, when I bring my cars to shows, I allow children to come and sit in my cars and get pictures – because I remember what a great experience it was as a child.
Austin Clark and his museum truly led me to love old cars.

Richard G. Krausesays:

June 10, 2015 4:47 pm

I “too” had the wonderful pleasure of having known and met, Mr. Henry “Austy” Clark.!
A truly great guy, and a wonderful collector of old cars!
Mr. Clark was a resident, of The Old era, ‘Gold-coast” of the North shore of Long Island!
He was also of close friend, of Mr. Harold Kraft (my boss) as the Deputy Town Engineer, of the Township of Oyster bay!
And more important, a car collector, as well! Whenever Mr. Cark and Mr. Kraft got together, the fun was endless.
The knowledge I gained from him, as a young man, of old cars was priceless! It placed in me a true, deep feeling for collector cars!
What men they were and I will be grateful to my dying day, for the values they placed in me. For the feelings and dedication
people such as they…..gave to me, the true feelings for the preservation of old antique cars! And it instilled in me…That even
though we may own an old car…It is Not really ours, but gives an opportunity for future generations, to get to know our past, and what old
cars should be all about! Mr. Clark was a man to be admired, and for many, many reasons!

STEVEN J MAIONEsays:

September 5, 2015 8:55 pm

I am looking for the whereabouts of a former Henry Austin Clark Jr. truck that was probably sold in his auctions. It is a 1912 Best Panel Delivery Van painted with “Dane & Murphy Storage on Barclay Street, Flushing, N.Y.” I have a postcard from the museum with its picture – a lovely restored truck Painted in small letters it says ‘Owned and Operated by Henry A. Clark Jr.” Since he was born in Flushing I wonder how much significance there was in his ownership of this truck. Where is it now? P.S. My first job was with Dane & Murphy on Barclay Street.